When Harry regained consciousness, even before opening his eyes, he was hit by the thick scent of herbs. His mind felt like a muddled paste—
When Harry regained consciousness, even before opening his eyes, he was hit by the thick scent of herbs.
His mind felt like a muddled paste—slow, sticky, and unresponsive.
But first, he had to figure out what had happened to him.
Harry tried to open his eyes, but his body didn't feel like his own. Not a single glimmer of light reached him.
His ears buzzed, as if a swarm of insects had burrowed into his head, their shrill screeching echoing deep inside his skull. The pain was unbearable.
Gritting his teeth, Harry gathered all his strength, fighting to claw his way out of the darkness.
Finally, a faint light appeared—and a blurry shadow swayed beside him.
Who was that?
The shadow suddenly froze, then shouted in delight,
"Madam! Madam, come quickly—Harry blinked! He's waking up!"
The figure grabbed Harry's arm and shook it hard.
"Harry? Harry? Wake up!"
The loud voice reached his ears but sounded distant and uneven, like it was shifting in and out.
Still, Harry knew that voice instantly.
It was her.
But… wasn't she supposed to be at home? Why was she here?
Forget it—his head was too foggy to think.
He opened his mouth and, with immense effort, rasped out a single word:
"Hermione…"
The sound was like bark scraping against stone.
Startled by how raspy and aged his voice sounded—like it belonged to an eighty-year-old man—Harry immediately went silent. What he didn't see was the way the shadow, upon hearing that name, suddenly froze.
And then… slowly… she let go of his hand.
…
Harry forced his eyes open. The sudden brightness felt like two blades slashing across his eyes.
Pain. Searing, burning pain.
It was as if his eyeballs were being roasted—dry, hot, and excruciating.
Tears welled up from the stabbing heat.
The sensation was enough to drive someone mad.
Ignoring his scratchy throat, Harry gasped,
"Hermione… eyes… hot… water… no… ice…"
The shadow immediately understood. She searched around frantically but couldn't find anything suitable.
Clang!
She flung open the window, and a gust of cold air swept across Harry's face. The chill felt absolutely heavenly.
Then the window was closed again.
Before Harry could speak, two cool, soft bundles were gently pressed over his eyes.
Hsssss!
It was like tossing ice cubes into a fire.
Pure bliss.
Snow.
Chilled energy seeped through the snow into his eyes, smothering the fiery agony, replacing it with soothing cold.
The snow melted, trickling icy water down Harry's neck and sending a shiver through his body—clearing his mind in an instant.
Who would've thought snow would work so well?
But just then, a voice suddenly bellowed,
"What do you think you're doing?! Are you trying to blind him?!"
A plump figure shoved the slender shadow aside.
Harry felt a surge of anger.
Who do you think you are, yelling at Hermione?!
The plump figure came over and roughly pried open Harry's eyelids.
All Harry could see was a blur of greenish light—his vision no clearer than before. Maybe even worse.
The loud voice continued to scold the shadow, a barrage of chaotic words Harry couldn't make out.
And slowly… Harry drifted back into sleep.
…
At some point, someone pried his mouth open and poured in a bitter-tasting liquid.
Through the haze, he sensed people standing by his bedside… and then leaving.
Harry wanted to say something—but no words came out.
…
Still, bit by bit—though his body remained weak—he felt himself growing more aware.
…
Night had fallen. The air was cool and still.
Inside the hospital wing—
The lights were off. Darkness filled the room.
From outside, a yellow magical lamp cast a dim glow through the bars and window.
The faint bands of light, divided by the window frame, fell across the bed—illuminating the boy lying beneath the covers… and the girl peacefully asleep beside him, resting her head on the edge of the bed…
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⚡ The Rebirth of Harry Potter
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